In His Arms
by JavisTG
Summary: "I went to the woods this morning and dug these up. For her," he says. "I thought we could plant them along the side of the house." Mockingjay p380 Peeta comes back to D12.
1. Peeta and the Primrose Bushes

**CHAPTER 1: Peeta and the Primrose Bushes.**

"Welcome home, kid."

Peeta turned towards the familiar voice and found Haymitch Abernathy looking at him. The older victor was at the end of the platform, leaning against a column. Once his young pupil came within reach he straightened his stance and opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. Peeta dropped the small bag he carried and stepped into his mentor's warm embrace. The familiar acrid smell of liquor hung in the air. Peeta smiled.

This man saved my life once, he thought. His mind answered back _real_.

Peeta received a few affectionate slaps on the back and stepped away. He looked into his mentor's tired eyes and asked, "so, what have I done to deserve this warm welcome in the middle of the night?"

"You stayed alive," Haymitch retorted drily.

Peeta snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, just barely, you know?"

Haymitch nodded. "I know."

Peeta picked up his bag and started walking towards the open doors of District Twelve's train station. His mentor followed.

"Is that all you've got?" Haymitch questioned as he gestured towards the traveling bag.

"Yep." Peeta swung the bag back and forth. "This small satchel contains all of my earthly possessions."

Haymitch chuckled. "Yeah, those and anything else you left behind inside that house of yours." After a small pause he added. "You did leave something behind, right? You didn't go around town giving away your stuff just because you thought you weren't coming back, right? I think I'd remember something like that," he muttered.

Peeta chuckled lightly and shook his head. "No, I didn't give away my stuff. I did think about it, though. In the end I figured it wasn't worth it. I tried giving my stuff away once. It didn't end too well, as you might recall," he finished in a somber tone.

Haymitch shuddered as he remembered that terrible first day of the Victory Tour, the look of hope in people's eyes that had been quickly replaced by terror once the peacekeepers had snapped into action.

"I recall," he answered quietly.

The crisp spring air slapped their cheeks as they made their way to the Victor's Village. It was well past midnight, and the entire town was engulfed in darkness. The moon, perched high in a cloudless sky, illuminated their path. An owl hooted in the distance, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent road.

After a few minutes, Peeta decided to break the silence.

"So," he began, "how are things around here?"

Haymitch raised a questioning eyebrow. "What do you mean 'how are things'? I thought you had spoken to Effie."

Peeta let out an amused laugh. "Yes, I did. I spoke to her _at length_." He shook his head as he remembered his conversation with the former District Twelve escort.

Effie had stopped by Dr. Aurelius's clinic two days before Peeta's release. She'd been thrilled to tell him all about her new position as victor liaison. Apparently she was the only person left in Panem who had a working knowledge of the administrative aspects of victors' lives. Even the victors themselves had never been informed of certain practical details, such as how their earnings made their way into their bank accounts each month. And, since she was one of the few people who knew the victors personally, she was assigned to handle all of their requests and queries concerning the new government.

Most of their conversation had been about the practical aspects of his new life. President Paylor's government was allowing all victors to keep their houses in their respective Victor's Villages. What was more, she was granting them ownership rights. Which meant that they were allowed to rent or sell the houses and keep the proceeds. Traditional monthly earnings would continue for six months but would stop after that.

According to Effie, the new government wanted victors to lead productive, fulfilling lives. So President Paylor had set up a plan to lend money to those who might want to start a business. Those who chose to enroll in school would be granted what Effie referred to as a 'scholarship'. Victors would not be expected to return these monies. But they would only receive help to start up one business, and the scholarship would be discontinued after eight years.

Peeta listened to Effie trill incessantly about all the advantages and marvels of the new Panem. She looked so different form the woman who had changed his life irrevocably by pulling his name out of a glass bowl. Her clothes weren't as colorful as they'd once been. And her garish wig had been replaced by soft blond curls that framed her face. But the sound of her voice still reminded him of training sessions, timetables, and etiquette lessons.

Right before leaving she'd added one request.

"Please, sweetie, tell Katniss to pick up the phone," she'd said. "I've been trying to reach her, but she never answers. I will be visiting Twelve in a few weeks," she assured him with an emphatic nod. "But I would like to talk to her before I head out there. She might need something from here."

Peeta just nodded. He hadn't seen or heard from Katniss in months, but he couldn't imagine her actually wanting something from the Capitol. Besides, he didn't know if his co-victor was purposefully avoiding their former escort. If Katniss didn't want to talk to Effie, he wasn't going to force her.

Haymitch chortled in amusement as Peeta relayed Effie's visit.

"Some things never change," he commented with an amused grin.

"She asked me to keep an eye out for you," Peeta added.

"Really?"

"Hm-hmm."

With a soft snort Haymitch concluded, "like I said, some things never change."

The victors walked in companionable silence for a while. The pounding of their footsteps along the gravel road and the distant rustling of leaves were the only sounds around them. They had almost reached Victor's Village when Peeta spoke again.

"You never answered my question, you know?"

"I know."

Peeta saw the sly smile perched on his mentor's lips and shook his head. Some things never did change. And, even though he was more amused than annoyed by the old victor's reluctance to share information, he still wondered what his mentor was trying to hide. He was in no mood for secrets and intrigue. He'd had enough of those to last him a lifetime. He just wanted a chance to lead a peaceful life. To do that, though he needed to feel safe in his surroundings. He couldn't go around questioning other people's motives, particularly when those people were pretty much the only family he had left. So he decided to push through and try a more direct approach.

"How's Katniss?" he asked.

"Alive."

"That's it? Alive?" Peeta questioned.

Haymitch sighed. "Yes, kid. I haven't seen much of her since we came back. I made sure she was fed and warm, but there's not much more I can do for her. According to Greasy Sae, she eats the bare minimum and stares at the fire all day long. She hasn't left the house since I brought her back. Hell, I don't think she's even left that rocking chair in weeks!"

Peeta felt a lump in his throat. He wasn't surprised, not really. He could still remember the stormy look on Katniss's eyes the last time they'd seen each other. There had been a moment, during the victor's meeting with President Coin, when he'd caught her staring in his direction. He hadn't held her gaze for long, but the sadness and loneliness he had seen reflected in her eyes made his heart ache.

Later, when she'd shot the president, he'd understood. She'd been saying goodbye. She wasn't planning on surviving the day. Luckily he'd managed to stay close to her side. It hadn't been difficult really. The group of victors was supposed to stand as a united front in front of President Snow. President Coin had wanted to send a message to her predecessor.

"We're stronger than you," the message said. "You put us through hell, and we survived, we endured. We're no longer afraid. We're finally free."

Apparently the new president hadn't realized the message applied to her as well.

Haymitch opened the gate that separated the village from the rest of the district and motioned for Peeta to follow him. Once inside, Peeta took a moment to look at the narrow road that ran across the village. Nothing had changed. The dimly lit street and the small square that stood in the center of it looked exactly as he remembered them. But, as he examined the row of houses that stood in front of him, he noticed that most of them were no longer empty. Somewhere along the road the neighborhood had acquired some new tenants.

"Who are our new neighbors?" he asked.

XXXXX

Peeta looked around the empty house. A thin blanket of dust covered every surface within sight. Despite its luxurious furnishings, the house looked abandoned and hollow. It felt cold and dead. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly, he released the air from his lungs. He hadn't expected to be back. He could still remember how he had said goodbye to the place, carefully packing all his belongings so they could be taken to town after his death.

He walked towards the staircase and climbed the stairs to the second floor. The sound of his heavy footsteps echoed in the silent hallway. He reached the landing and stopped, unsure of where to go to next. His eyes scanned the corridor, making an inventory in his mind of what was hidden behind each door. His brain told him that the door furthest from him led into his bedroom. Hesitantly, he walked towards it. He could feel his hand shaking slightly as he pushed the door open.

Relief washed over him as he took in the room that greeted him on the other side of the portal. There was a big bed, with a solid wooden frame, on which he'd painted wreaths of ivy. The blue bedspread he had ordered from District eight when he'd first moved in still covered the mattress. A small couch stood by the window. Everything was exactly as he remembered it. He let out a shaky breath and chuckled quietly.

Real, he thought, real.

After dropping his bag inside the room, he turned around and went back out into the hallway. One by one he opened all the doors that lined the long corridor. The spare bedroom that had never been used, the bathroom, and his study; they all remained untouched, unchanged.

One word played on a loop in his mind. Real. Real. Real.

He stepped into his study. Rows of framed paintings wrapped in construction paper lined the walls. Even though he couldn't see them, he knew what the canvases held. Each one carried one of his nightmares. From the bloodied claws of the wolf mutts that had taken his leg to the berry-stained lips of the read-headed tribute from District Five. All the ghosts that haunted his dreams were there.

Well, not all of them, he thought, not anymore.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and walked towards the easel that stood next to the window. His leather bound sketchbook was still there, leaning against the solid wood frame. He ran his fingers over the soft orange leather cover. Portia had bought it for him when she found out about his talent.

"To hold happy memories," she'd told him.

He slowly flipped through the used pages of the book. Apparently, he had managed to save a few good memories after all.

A soft smile spread across his lips at the sight of the cake he'd designed for Delly's seventeenth birthday. He could still remember the look on the blond girl's eyes when she opened the door and found him balancing the sweet confection in his hands.

He moved on, skipping a few pages and landed on a sketch of Haymitch taking a nap on Katniss's rocking chair. Flames danced in the fireplace in front of him, and a chessboard sat on a small table to his left, the game temporarily forgotten while the old victor snored the afternoon away.

Had that been his life, he wondered, chess games and naps by the fire. Something deep inside told him yes, this had also been real.

The next page held a sketch of Prim coming back home from the Meadow; her arms were laden with a big bunch of yellow flowers. Carefully, he traced the pad of his finger along the delicate outline of the girl's face, and over her innocent smile. His heart ached as he looked into her bright blue eyes.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to hold on to the memory the sketch had unleashed. He could feel the delicious warmth of a lazy summer day spreading through his chest. The sweet perfume of the bunch of flowers Prim held tightly in her arms tickled his nose.

This time, the word left his lips wrapped in a soft sob. "Real," he said, as he felt two lonely tears running down his cheeks. He wiped them away immediately, afraid that they might land on the sketch and ruin it.

He wondered, once again, how Katniss was doing.

He walked towards the window and pushed it open. Cold air rushed into the room, and he shivered. He wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to preserve his body heat, and he looked out onto the street.

The house that lay directly in front of his looked exactly as he remembered it. Unoccupied. The front door and all the shutters were firmly closed. But, on closer inspection, he noticed that the front steps were clean. And someone had begun loosening the soil around the house, seemingly preparing it for spring. He wasn't surprised. According to Haymitch, some engineers from District Three would be living there soon.

He turned his gaze to the house on the right. The sign he'd seen by the mailbox stated that Greasy Sae, her granddaughter, Thom Whitaker, and some other District Twelve survivors lived there.

The house looked clean and welcoming. A new porch swing had been set next to the front door. And a row of freshly planted shrubs wrapped around the side of the house. He could already see the first budding leaves breaking through the thin branches of the scraggly plants.

His eyes traveled to the second floor of the house. The soft light of a flickering flame danced in front of one of the upstairs windows. Its warm glow reminded Peeta of Rye, his middle brother, who'd always been afraid of the dark.

He took a deep breath and turned towards the left. Katniss's house looked sad and neglected. His chest tightened with sorrow.

He remembered the brightly colored curtains Mrs. Everdeen had made when they'd first moved in. The scent of rosemary, mint, and basil from the small herb garden Katniss kept on the back of the house still lingered in his memory. And the sound of Prim's cheerful laughter spilling through the open windows still rang in his ears. But those sights and sounds were gone. They'd been crushed by President Snow's thumb, and they'd been swallowed by fire.

All that remained was a lonely-looking building with dirty windows. The thin plume of smoke that came out of the chimney was the only indication that the house wasn't completely abandoned.

XXXXX

"Tell me Peeta, what is Katniss Everdeen to you?" Dr. Aurelius asked in the calm, soothing voice he always used during therapy.

Peeta smiled, he had worked very hard to answer this question and now that he had an answer he wasn't going to forget it.

"She's my neighbor," he replied softly, but without hesitation. "She's my co-victor. She's a hunter, and she's my ally. She kept me alive, and she protected me. Even when I turned into a vicious mutt who tried to kill her, she stood up for me and she kept me safe. I don't know who she is right now. I haven't seen her in months. But I believe she was my friend. Maybe she still is."

The doctor gave him a small approving smile. After a small pause, he added, "ok, listen carefully. These have been very confusing times for everyone. And, just because Katniss wasn't hijacked it doesn't mean that she understands, or even knows, everything that's happened around her.

"I know you still have doubts. You still need answers, and you need information only Katniss can give you. But, there will be times when she won't be able to answer some of your questions. When that happens, please be patient. You know how painful reliving sad memories can be."

Peeta nodded, he understood what the doctor meant. Katniss was one of the few people from his past who had managed to survive, and he wanted her to be a part of his life. He knew the friendship they'd once shared had been shattered by the hijacking. But, if their time in the Capitol had taught him anything, it was that the bond they shared was stronger than any other he'd ever known. If he wanted their friendship to blossom again, he was going to have to trust her.

Besides, he was well aware of how hurtful certain recollections could be, and he wasn't interested in causing her any more pain. His days of wanting to hurt Katniss Everdeen were definitely behind him.

A few hours later, as Peeta was getting ready for his trip back to Twelve, Dr. Aurelius paid him a visit. The doctor wanted to make sure Peeta had everything he needed. He also had a small favor to ask.

"Please, tell Katniss to pick up the phone," he said, echoing Effie's words.

Peeta frowned. He had dismissed Effie's message, but this request worried him. Katniss had been back in Twelve for weeks. What had she been doing all this time?

"I can't pretend anymore" the doctor added. "I really need to talk to her."

Peeta nodded. This message he would certainly pass along.

XXXXX

Peeta heard the clock on the mantelpiece strike three. He was tired, but he knew he wasn't going to get much sleep. While his house had matched his memories, he still felt a bit on edge inside the empty building. He decided some tea would do him good.

He made his way back into the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards. Airtight containers full of loose tea leaves, sugar, flour, dried grains and different spices still filled the cabinets.

Why hadn't his brothers taken any of it, he wondered. He had given them very specific instructions before leaving. Furniture and appliances had to be kept inside the house while he was alive, but there was no point in keeping food in the pantry. Had peacekeepers stopped them from coming into Victor's Village? Had his mother bullied them, once more, into rejecting anything that came from him? Had she told them they didn't need any hand me downs from their ungrateful, lying, younger brother?

His hand tightened around the sugar container until his knuckles turned white, and his heart raced angrily inside his chest.

 _Breathe_ , he reminded himself. _Let go of the glass jar and breathe_.

He heard the soft thud of the jar hitting the countertop and backed away from it. The walls were closing in on him and he felt the thick dusty air sticking to his throat. He motioned towards the back door, swung it open, and stepped out onto the porch.

He took a deep, cleansing breath, filling his lungs with the chilly early morning breeze. After sending a silent thank you to Dr. Aurelius he began repeating the calming mantra the doctor had taught him.

"My name is Peeta Mellark. I'm 18 years old. My home is District Twelve. I was in the Hunger Games, twice. District Twelve was destroyed. My family is dead. I was taken prisoner by the Capitol. I was tortured. District Thirteen rescued me. President Coin sent me to war. I survived. Katniss Everdeen killed President Coin."

He could already feel his heart slowing down, but he went on, listing all those things he knew were true. "Katniss Everdeen is not a mutt. Katniss Everdeen is my district partner, and my neighbor. She's my ally. She saved my life, and I saved hers. We protect each other," he finished.

He stood on his back porch for awhile. His backyard looked as abandoned as Katniss's house. The potted plants that lined the far wall were shriveled and dead. The wooden gazebo was covered in ash, and the small toolshed looked like it could use a coat of fresh paint.

Dr. Aurelius had told him he needed to keep busy. Maybe he could start by cleaning and fixing his home.

He began listing everything that needed to be done but his mind kept going back to Katniss's unkempt house. According to his therapist, a safe environment was essential for a successful recovery. There was no way Katniss felt safe in that place. Maybe he could clean her windows or something.

Feeling energized with his new project he went back into the house, and straight into the laundry room where he kept his cleaning products.

He decided to tackle the kitchen first. He emptied the cupboards and used a damp cloth to clean every single shelf. Then, he scrubbed the countertops and the large wooden table that stood in the middle of the room. He also took apart the stove, leaving the bits and pieces soaking in soapy water while he cleaned the oven. After putting the stove back together, he swept and mopped the floors.

By the time he was done the clock had struck five. His hands were red and he was covered in sweat. But, the room was clean and, for the first time since he'd come through the door, the place felt like home.

His mind went back to the list he'd made earlier. He knew he had to go upstairs to clean his room, but he didn't want to rouse the entire neighborhood with his noisy vacuum cleaner. He decided to clean the master bathroom instead.

It was almost six when he went back into the kitchen. He was exhausted, but he couldn't wait for the day to begin.

He went out onto the back porch and sat on the steps. The mug of freshly brewed tea he held between his hands kept him warm.

He looked at his sad, wilted garden. He had never been much of a gardener, but his plants had always been green and healthy. The yard that stood in front of him was a sad reminder of what had happened to his district.

His eyes itched with unshed tears as he thought about his family. His parents, his brothers, his sister in law. He'd written letters for all of them, hoping Haymitch would deliver them after his death. It all seemed so useless now.

He had never expected to be the last one standing, and he still couldn't understand why he'd been spared. Or why his district had been punished. What had they ever done that was so unforgivable? They'd always been good, hardworking people. They'd committed no crimes. They didn't deserve to die.

He could feel the sense of helplessness and sorrow, which tormented him so often, creeping up on him.

He took a long pull from his mug. The tea was so hot he could feel it burning down his throat, but he didn't mind. The pain brought him out of his thoughts, it made him focus on what was right in front of him. Dr. Aurelius had warned him about this. He'd told him that he was going to have to find a way to mourn his family. He had suggested different approaches, from painting their portraits to simply closing his eyes and trying to talk to them. But, as he looked into his plant cemetery, Peeta came up with a different solution. He was going to make a memorial for his family. It was going to be something small and private. It was going to be alive. He was going to watch it grow and change. It was going to be a reminder of how his loved ones would have evolved and grown if they had been allowed to live.

A smile settled on his lips. He drained his mug, and set it on the top step. His eyes shone with resolve as he stood up and walked towards the tool shed.

A few minutes later, he was pushing his wheelbarrow into the woods that ran along the old station road.

It was a little before seven. Shy beams of light streaked the sky as night turned into day. It had been dark when he'd made his way into the Victor's Village, but he had recognized the scent of fresh pine needles in the air. He looked around the forest, trying to recall everything he'd learned about the plants that grew there. He was looking for something small enough to fit into his wheelbarrow, but strong enough to pass the test of time. Something like a small fir perhaps.

He was so busy thinking about the beautiful tree he was about to take home that he almost missed it. Almost.

The bushes were scraggly and somewhat limp; with small, shy leaves blossoming all over the branches. He recognized the small yellow buds immediately. Evening Primrose. The flower Primrose Everdeen had been named after.

XXXXX

The sun was already dancing in the sky by the time he reached Katniss's house. His wheelbarrow was overflowing with the five bushes he'd managed to fit into it.

He got to work right away. The soil that surrounded the property was tightly packed after being frozen throughout the winter. So he used his shovel to loosen the ground. He had been working for a while. He was tired. His palms were sweaty, and he could already feel callouses forming on his hands but he pushed on. He needed to get this done.

He had almost finished scraping the sides of the wooden planter that surrounded the building when the front door swung open. Startled, he turned towards the sound.

There she was, standing a few feet away from him. Katniss Everdeen.

She looked small and sad. She was pale and so very thin. He couldn't remember a time when she'd been so disheveled. Her hair was a matted mess that stuck to her forehead, and her clothes… was she still wearing a soldier's uniform?

She seemed disoriented and surprised to find him there.

"You're back," she said, her voice sounding hoarse from disuse.

XXXXX

They didn't talk for long. But right before she turned away from him, slamming the front door shut, he saw it. The shy glimmer in the corner of her eye that said what her lips couldn't, "Welcome home".

 **AN:** Written for Prompts in Panem, Farewell Tour, October 2015.

Day 3: Expressions in Everlark / Canon Places / VIctor's Village.

I love kudos and comments as much as Prim loves mint drops. You always make my day when you share them with me. Thanks!

You can also find me on tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!

The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.


	2. Katniss and the Dandelion Stems

**AN:** I wrote this for Everlark Birthday Drabbles on Tumblr to celebrate the-golden-sunflower's birthday.

With a huge thank you to Burkygirl, for pre-reading, making suggestions, and holding my hand. This piece would have been a mess without her help.

XXXXX

Katniss stretched out her legs, rested her back against a tree trunk, and let out a tired sigh.

Lazily, she glanced around.

It was a beautiful spring day. The sun peeked through delicate clouds warming the damp earth beneath her fingertips, and a cool breeze caressed her cheeks.

A knot in the wood pressed against her shoulder blade, sending sharp pain shooting down her spine. She squirmed, trying to find a better position against the tree trunk, but the dull ache in her muscles made her wince.

It's no use, everything hurts, she thought before finally laying still.

Apparently, the weeks of inactivity had done a number on her body. Not that she was surprised.

She had spent endless days wasting away by the fire. It stood to reason that she wouldn't be strong enough to immediately snap back into action. But still, the notion that only one day of activity had left her so sore annoyed her.

She had dragged herself out of bed that morning, intrigued by the hushed conversation taking place in her kitchen, and lured by the scent of freshly baked bread.

As soon as she'd walked into the kitchen, she'd seen it. A perfect round loaf of rustic bread sitting on the kitchen table. It's crispy golden crust made her mouth water.

Her eyes turned to Peeta who was sitting at the head of the table with a steaming mug of tea in his hands.

"You made this?" Katniss asked, unable to keep the awe from her voice.

"Yeah. It's just a basic roll," Peeta said with a shrug. "Doesn't have anything special in it."

Dumbfounded by his explanation, Katniss nodded. "Thank you," she mumbled.

Peeta's cheeks turned a darker hue under her gaze, "You're welcome."

Breakfast was a quiet affair after that.

Peeta and Sae kept their conversation to a minimum, chuckling quietly to themselves as they pretended not to notice the way Katniss's bacon kept disappearing from her plate.

With breakfast out of the way, Peeta and Sae excused themselves. There was something about a supply train leaving the station that Katniss didn't quite catch.

Restless and alert, Katniss had stubbornly refused to stay home. As soon as the front door closed behind her visitors' backs, she had begun moving. If they were ready to get on with her day, so was she.

Remembering the hunting fiasco of the previous day, she had lowered her expectations for the day's activities. I'm not strong enough to hunt yet, she'd admitted to herself, but I can definitely go out for a walk in the woods.

So she had changed into her old hunting clothes, packed a few slices of leftover bread, an apple, and a water bottle, and she'd headed for the door.

Determined to use her energy wisely, she had reached the woods through the back of Victors' Village. It was a section she'd never visited before, and she was surprised by the thick vegetation that greeted her.

Small berry bushes and thick maple trees surrounded her. Their strong branches, covered with a thousand fresh buds of bright green leaves, made her smile.

She walked for a while, getting lost in the sounds and the smells of the forest.

The soft crunch of fresh leaves under her feet, the distant song of a young bird, and the buzz of insects' kept her company.

The world around her was waking from its deep winter slumber and life greeted her wherever she looked.

After a couple of hours, her stomach rumbled. Tired and thirsty, she decided to take a break.

So there she was, her back against an uncomfortable tree and too tired to move.

Slowly, she rummaged through her hunting bag. The water bottle came out first. Carefully, she unscrewed the cap and eagerly drank her fill.

The bread came out next. It wasn't warm anymore, but it was still soft, and its thick crust was as crunchy as ever. Katniss brought it up to her face and inhaled deeply.

Her eyes watered as the yeasty smell enveloped her. Feeling suddenly ravenous, she bit into a slice and forced herself to chew slowly to savor it.

Silent tears stained her cheeks as she realized that Peeta's modest offering was the first thing in months that hadn't tasted like ash in her mouth.

A warm sunbeam caressed her cheeks. It made her whole body hum, lighting a flicker of hope in her chest. She closed her eyes, allowing its unexpected warmth to course through her, and smiled.

Peeta's back, she thought. The old Peeta's back.

The notion was like a gust of wind enveloping her frail body and blowing the fog of her sorrow away.

She opened her eyes, taking in the world around her like it was the very first time. The lush colors and textures which greeted her mended her battered heart.

Eager to start feeling again, she breathed deeply and beamed, delighted to feel the tingle of fresh air filling her lungs once more.

Suddenly, the dark, angry voice which had kept her company over the last few months whispered in her ear, He's here today, but how do you know he's here to stay?

Terrified, Katniss froze. She hated to admit it, but the voice was right. She knew why she was back in this barren wasteland. She had no choice. But Peeta hadn't killed a president. He was free to go where he pleased. Why would he choose to stay in a place that held nothing but pain?

Unsettled, Katniss packed up the remains of her food and headed straight for the Victors' Village.

XXXXX

By the time Katniss reached Peeta's house, the sun had begun to set. Warm golden rays bathed the Village, making the windows on every house gleam.

She was worn and winded. Her cheeks were flushed, and a light sheen of sweat covered her brow, but she didn't stop. With the last of her strength, she reached Peeta's door and knocked.

Exhausted, she pressed her hand against the wood and leaned her body on it for support.

A moment later, the door gave way under her palm making her lose her balance and propelling her forward, straight into Peeta's arms.

Surprised, Peeta reached for her shoulders and steadied her. "Katniss?"

Flustered, she tensed under his touch. "I'm ok," she wheezed.

Peeta let go and took a small step back. "Wanna come in?" he suggested.

Desperate for fresh air, Katniss shook her head and pointed to the porch swing. "Sit with me?"

"Sure." Peeta closed the door behind him and followed her to the swing.

Katniss sat down. Peeta followed suit, thoughtfully leaving as much space between them as he could.

He waited.

Slowly, Katniss regained her breath. The crisp afternoon breeze caressed her clammy skin, cooling down her body and making her shiver.

"Would you like some tea?" Peeta offered.

Grateful for the offer, Katniss nodded.

A few minutes later, she was gripping a steaming mug between her cold hands. Shakily, she brought the cup to her lips and took a sip.

The warm drink filled her mouth. Surprised by how strong and tart it was she wrinkled her nose as she swallowed, "Bitter," she mumbled into the cup.

Peeta's cheeks reddened. "Sorry!" he quickly apologized, "That's mine. Here's yours," he said, gently exchanging the mug in her hand with the one he was holding.

"It's ok," she said bringing the new cup back to her lips.

As soon as the sweet beverage hit her tongue, she smiled. It was perfect.

Eagerly, she took a few more sips. The delicate balance of sugar, tea, and milk invaded her senses. And, as the warm liquid traveled down her throat hitting all the right spots, she wondered how an insignificant piece of information such as her tea preference had remained untouched by the Capitol's ugly hand.

Gradually, Katniss began to relax. She leaned against the backrest, letting her feet dangle limply under her seat, and took in the sight in front of her.

Over the last few minutes, the sky had turned violet and pink. A few golden brushstrokes completed the sunset's palette, making the clouds glow.

A sudden sense of contentment enveloped her and, for the first time since she'd sat down, she turned to look at Peeta.

He was sitting on the far side of the swing, facing the street and enjoying the view as he absentmindedly blew on his tea.

The deep-rooted memory of a sunset over the Capitol skyline tugged at her heart, reminding her of a time before the Quarter Quell, the hijacking, and the war.

They had been so close then, so determined to risk everything just to keep each other safe.

So much had happened since. They had lost so much along the way, and still, there they were, sharing a simple cup of tea while they watched the sun paint the sky.

The niggling voice inside of her spoke again, breaking her peace and souring her mood. Don't get too attached. He's leaving soon.

Exasperated, Katniss huffed. She was tired of the questions and doubts which ate away at her during the night. Determined to put an end to her inner turmoil she asked, "When are you leaving?"

Startled, Peeta turned to face her. "I'm not."

Katniss's eyes narrowed as she struggled to make sense of his words. He had said so little, and still…

"You… you're staying?" she asked.

With a confidence Katniss hadn't seen in months, Peeta answered, "I am."

"Why?"

"Because it's home."

Peeta's words, candid and soft, wrapped around her chest reminding her of her grief. Dispirited and broken, she said, "But there's nothing left!"

A few stubborn tears streamed down her cheeks as she added, "They're all gone."

From his side of the swing, Peeta sighed. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he answered, "They are. But someone has to be here, Katniss. To remember. To make it right."

Using the back of her hand to wipe away her tears, she grumbled, "Nothing will ever be right."

"Maybe not," Peeta quietly conceded, "But I still have to try."

Katniss let out an annoyed huff. She was convinced that she would never understand the puzzle that was Peeta Mellark. After everything he'd been through, all the suffering and the pain, he still wanted to make things right. In what world did that make sense?

She was about to ask him just that when he spoke again.

"Listen, Katniss. I came back because I needed to. There may be nothing left here. But I don't have anything anywhere else either. At the end of the day, this is where I belong."

With a heavy sigh, he turned towards the street once more. His eyes locked on something in the far off distance Katniss couldn't see.

When he spoke again, his words were sad and hollow. "I know things will never be the same, not after everything we've been through. So, if you want me to leave, I'll understand.

"I won't leave the district, but I don't have to stay in Victors' Village. I can ask for a new house as soon as other options become available, and...

"Stop!" Automatically, her hand reached for his knee. With a gentle squeeze, she asked him to turn around.

"You don't have to go. I..." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Words had never been her thing, but she needed to make sure he understood. She still wanted him, still needed him.

She opened her eyes and found him waiting for her to continue. Trying for her best smile, she said, "I want you to stay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

A shy smile brightened his features. "Ok, then. I'll stay," he promised.

Relieved, Katniss went back to her tea. Her heart felt whole and light. Peeta wasn't going anywhere. He wanted to stay!

Refusing to be ignored, the treacherous voice inside of her spoke once more. He hasn't said it yet.

Katniss scowled. She hated admitting it, but she needed more, and only one word would give her the peace she craved.

Determined to settle the matter, she gathered all of her strength, squared her shoulders, and asked, "Always?"

The same sweet voice which haunted her dreams, echoed back, "Always."

It was like being enveloped by light. Warm sunbeams bounced on every surface, reaching into her soul, making her feel weightless and free.

Enjoying her newfound peace, Katniss drained the last of her tea. When she bent down to leave the empty mug on the floor her stomach pressed against her hunting bag, and she remembered something.

She opened the satchel and rifled through it for a moment, pushing the empty water bottle and the leftovers from lunch out of the way. Finally, her hand wrapped around the thick dandelion stems she had collected on her walk through the forest.

Triumphantly, she declared, "Here, these are for you."

Peeta looked at the offering and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Weeds?"

"Dandelions," she corrected him. "You can eat them."

"You can?"

"Yeah, just boil them for a bit and use them in a

salad."

"Ok, thanks," he said, reaching out and taking the greens from Katniss's hand.

Carefully, Peeta laid the stems on his lap and began to sort them out, grouping them by length. "Did you eat a lot of these growing up?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm. I started picking them the day after you gave me the bread."

Peeta let out a tired sigh.

Startled, Katniss asked, "You ok?"

He nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the weeds in his hands, he asked, "Do you think we could call it even now? About the bread?"

It was a simple request, one he'd made many times before and which she had never granted. Stubbornly refusing to let go of the guilt she felt for failing to repay him for his selflessness and generosity. She would never forget Peeta's gift. But, after sharing two arenas and a war with him, it seemed pointless to keep track of who had done what for whom.

Peeta wanted a clean slate, and she was ready to give it to him.

Softly, she whispered, "Yeah, we can."

An easy silence fell over them as they turned their eyes back to the sky. The soft colors of dusk gave way to the darker hues of night and early stars pierced the sky. The day was over, it was time to go home.

Suddenly, Peeta's phone rang. The shrill sound broke the silence making Katniss jump.

Amused by her reaction, Peeta placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and chuckled. "That's probably Doctor Aurelius," he explained, "I'm sorry, I have to take it."

"It's ok," she said, picking up her mug and handing it back to him, "it's time I went home anyway. Wanna come over for dinner later?"

"Sure. I'll bring salad," he said, standing up and waving the bunch of stems in his hand.

Katniss smiled, her eyes followed him as he walked along the porch.

Peeta reached his front door and pushed it open, he was already stepping into his house when Katniss called out.

"Hey, Peeta?"

"Yeah?"

"Welcome home."

XXXXX

 **AN:** I love reviews as much as Prim loves mint drops. You always make my day when you share them with me. Thanks!

You can also find me on Tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!

The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.


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